The Widowmaker doesn't make mistakes
by cryptexus
Summary: Talon had spared no expense in molding her into the perfect assassin, a true living weapon; she is patient, ruthless, efficient, she shows no emotions and feels no attachment to her target. To her, there is only one thing to look forward to: the satisfaction of the kill, a job well done, her bullet hitting its mark square in the forehead. The Widowmaker doesn't make mistakes.
1. Chapter 1 - Mistake

The Widowmaker doesn't make mistakes.

Talon had spared no expense in molding her into the perfect assassin, a true living weapon; she is patient, ruthless, efficient, she shows no emotions and feels no attachment to her target. To her, there is only one thing to look forward to: the satisfaction of the kill, a job well done, her bullet hitting its mark square in the forehead.

The Widowmaker doesn't make mistakes.

There is no escaping the Widowmaker; those who wronged Talon in the slightest would find out soon enough. They tried to hide, they tried to bargain, they hired entire bands of well-armed and well-trained bodyguards, but it served little to delay their fate. Eventually they will meet their end at the hands of the Widowmaker; nobody can escape, not even her own husband. She didn't always understand the reason why, she didn't care, she only chased the rush, the 'high' of successfully killing her mark. It was like the most potent of drugs to her.

The Widowmaker doesn't make mistakes, and today was no different. She had been waiting for this moment forever, the perfect chance, with an effortless pull of the trigger and the thundering boom of her rifle, her target lay dead. But why didin't she feel it? The instant rush of getting her mark wasn't there, instead she felt hollow, empty. She looked through her scope, at the mess of chestnut hair, usually stuck up uncontrollably, but now lying still on the brick road. Her brown eyes, usually beaming with enthusiasm, held an empty stare while thick crimson pooled below them. The tinted visor covering it was broken, with cracks extending from a hole no bigger than a penny square in the middle of it. Her face was devoid of that stupid grin she always held, instead her mouth was agape with a clear expression of shock. There was none of her insufferable giggles or incessant taunting, just the deafening silence hanging in the air.

The Widowmaker doesn't make mistakes, but she felt like she made a terrible one.


	2. Chapter 2 - Aftermath

The best word to describe the situation was… surreal. Angela never thought that this moment would come, much less this soon; yet there she stood.

It was a beautiful day. Clouds were non-existent, allowing the sun to bathe the world in its bright, warm glow. Birds were chirping, as if to put an exclamation point on the vibrancy of the day. However, the energy around her was anything but. The atmosphere was grim, with a certain feeling of dread fitting only for a funeral.

She wasn't even crying anymore. She couldn't. All her tears had been exhausted the moment she saw that horrifying sight. Lena Oxton, slumped against a wall in a cold, lonely alley in Kings Row. She didn't believe her eyes at first, she convinced herself it was fatigue from the preceding skirmish causing her to hallucinate. But the warm, crimson liquid staining her gloved hand as she caressed those soft cheeks was very real; shimmering under the glow of the Chronal Accelerator.

The news hit the other agents like a freight train. Winston refused to believe the news and tossed a table in rage, destroying almost half of his own lab. Angela looked up. There he stood by the casket, still holding on. She knew the only reason the gorilla wasn't crying was because he wasn't physically able to.

Even Jack Morrison, usually serious and professional behind the cold, empty stare of his mask, could not maintain the façade. He stood opposite Winston, making it a point to be present despite great personal risk as a wanted man. McCree stood by him. His reaction to the news was the calmest of all, he just took his hat off and closed his eyes, letting a single tear be the only significant display of sadness. Despite the minimal reaction, Angela could feel the seething rage inside him. It was no secret that he and Lena were close.

Angela still couldn't believe that what was going on was, indeed, real. Even as the casket lowered into the ground. They couldn't even give her an open casket. One shot to the head. Cold, efficient, calculating. Like that thing that did this to her. Widowmaker. To think that... monster had once been her colleague, her friend. Now sh- IT was nothing more than a bringer of pain and destruction to her life. She couldn't count the number of friends and comrades that had been injured—or worse—by that creature. One part of her wanted to believe, as Lena did, that their friend was still in there somewhere. But now all hope was gone. Or, more to the point, her willingness to believe that she could still be saved was gone. Any chance of that had disappeared with Lena.

That was weeks ago now.

Angela was back in her lab. It was eerily quiet, not a sound except for her own breathing and the soft hum of the air conditioning. Various papers, ledgers, vials, and tools were all in place. Which was unusual, usually a certain obnoxious brit would bother her all day asking about this and that and everything else, causing a mess as she blinked all over the lab.

She couldn't help but crack a smile. She never thought that she would miss being pestered by that little ball of energy. She didn't realise just how painfully quiet the place is without the brit.

Angela didn't even notice the tears making their way down her cheeks. She looked around her lab and stopped when she noticed her sidearm lying still on a table. Even after Overwatch's insistence that she carried a sidearm, she still refused to use it.

 _How foolish of me…_

Angela had always despised violence. She had always tried to find a solution that didn't involve bloodshed. Countless times she had the chance to draw that weapon and take the life of someone intending to do harm. Sometimes she was forced into a situation where she needed to use it.

Yet she didn't.

Every time her friends had always been there to protect her, and even when they weren't, she would manage to find a way to escape thanks to her Valkyrie suit. It dawned on her just how many of her friends had been injured or killed, how many people have fallen in harm's way, simply because she refused to take action.

 _And for what?_ She thought. For the naïve—and frankly stupid—belief that violence is never the answer? The self-righteous conviction that, no matter what, she would never take a life?

Her refusal to take action had caused so much harm for many people. People who were more deserving of life than those whose lives she would have taken. And now her mistake had cost Lena Oxton, her friend, her…

She smiled. She'd always been teased by the other agents as being everyone's "Mom". She'd never considered this to be true except for one person: Lena. Despite being close enough in age to be sisters—or at least she'd like to think so—she'd subconsciously started to consider the young lass as her own.

And now she was gone. And Angela was to blame. She had crossed path with Widowmaker quite a few times. So many times she ran away instead of drawing her weapon and taking her life. And so many lives that could have been saved were lost as a result.

She traced her fingers over the barrel of the gun. So many times it stayed in its holster when she should have used it. So many times that decision did more harm than good. So many lives lost because of her mistake. So much more harm that monster, Widowmaker, had caused as a result of her inaction.

She wrapped her hand around the grip and lifted the gun up.

 _No more_


	3. Chapter 3 - Curtains

Working with Talon has many benefits. Being given a luxurious penthouse apartment in a prestigious neighborhood to use as an operating base is one of them. It was something that the Widowmaker never understood, being in her line of work. What normal people would consider a dream home was nothing but a mess of security risks for her. But she couldn't complain, as much as Talon's various modifications had ensured that she could endure days of being on the field, she was still thankful for the respite that the place afforded her.

As of late though, Widowmaker had been trying her best to avoid any sort of downtime. It had been weeks since that day, the day she took out the Overwatch agent known as "Tracer". Since then, she's been stuck; wondering why instead of getting that feeling of euphoria and satisfaction she'd come to love- to need -whenever her bullet hits its mark, she was left feeling empty, wrong. And that feeling would return every day, every night, every time she had the briefest of rest, all the questions would flood back into her mind. It tormented her.

Widowmaker sighed. Even now, as the elevator slowly travelled up the high-rise building, she couldn't help but ask herself.

 _Why does it matter so much? She was just another mark._

Despite her attempts to convince herself that Tracer was just another Overwatch agent, just an annoyance, just a fly to be swatted, she couldn't shake the feeling at the back of her head.

Widowmaker growled. That woman- no, that girl -was a fool. She'd noticed the numerous times the Brit had called her "Amélie", her various attempts at trying to get Widowmaker to join her, her utterly shameless flirting. It was as if by her insistence and sheer will alone that Widowmaker would disappear, and she would go back to a normal life as Amélie again.

 _Going back..._ As the thought crossed her mind, she felt a sting of pain on her head. She groaned, rubbing one hand on her temple.

 _Not a chance! Amélie is dead!_ Screamed a voice at the back of her head, but it was not her own. Her face scrunched up as the pain became more intense.

A ding interrupted her thoughts. As quickly as it came, everything disappeared; the pain, her thoughts. She opened her eyes and was thankful to see her own apartment before her.

As she walked into the vast living room, she couldn't help but chuckle.

 _How foolish of me, how sickeningly weak, to even allow that silly girl to annoy me so. Even in death..._

She placed her briefcase on the dining table and opened the locks. With a brief click, the briefcase swung open, revealing the Widow's Kiss. She lifted it out of the briefcase and started to walk towards the armory, concealed behind a panel.

As she walked she noticed that something was odd, something was out of place. She felt the cool breeze of the night air and her eyes widened as the realisation hit. She held her gun up as she quickly turned to look towards the balcony.

Nothing. Nothing but curtains swaying in the wind.

Her eyes narrowed, she took a step towards the balcony as she scanned her surrounding, Widow's Kiss at the ready. She froze as she saw a figure standing there, the light reflecting on his cold, metallic mask.

Out of pure reflex, Widowmaker jumped back, sliding across the dining room table as she squeezed the trigger. The figure unsheathed a sword and in one swift motion, deflected her bullet.

Widowmaker was in disbelief as the bullet travelled back towards her and hit the Widow's Kiss, knocking it out of her hands. She reached into her coat and pulled her sidearm out of its holster, firing wildly at the figure as she swiftly pushed herself up off the floor.

 _I have to reach the balcony!_ She thought. It was her only means of escape at this point. She still had her grappling hook and could possibly reach a lower flower from there where the elevator would be nothing but a deathtrap.

As she turned around, she heard a loud bang followed by an explosion of light, causing her to stagger back. Before she could regain her balance she heard the sound of two rapid shots as an unbearable amount of pain erupted in her abdomen and her right knee. She screamed as she dropped onto her uninjured knee, ears still ringing from the blast.

"Now hold on, where do you think you're going?" Said a gruff, smug voice.

Widowmaker recognised who it was. Her guess was confirmed as her eyes adjusted; Jesse McCree stood before her, smoke still pouring from the barrel of his gun which was aimed at her.

He bent down to get on eye level with her. "I never liked shootin' a lady, but for you… Heh'… I'll make an exception. Especially after what you did."

"Just finish it then." She said through clenched teeth, clutching at her abdomen in a futile attempt to slow the bleeding. Widowmaker knew there was little point in struggling, as she was outnumbered and in no condition to fight.

McCree smirked. "Believe me, it would be my pleasure." His smirk took a sinister edge. "But I'm not gonna' let you off that easily." He pressed the barrel of his gun against Widowmaker's throat.

She screamed as the red hot muzzle met her skin. Despite her great tolerance for pain- thanks to Talon's enhancements -she was desperately begging for it to be over.

"McCree! Stop!"

Widowmaker felt a sting as a bit of skin tore as the muzzle was pulled away, the intense pain lingering from the burn. She was struggling to stay conscious.

"Why? You know what she did! She killed-" He shouted at the foreign voice.

"I know." Said the strangely robotic voice. "But revenge takes only the one who seeks it." He calmly added. "Our mission is to capture, all of this is unnecessary."

"Heh..."

Widowmaker felt a rough metallic hand wrap around her chin and forcing her to look up. Her vision was blurry but she could still make out McCree's features.

"Looks like you got saved by the bell. But mark my words, you're gonna pay."

The hand forcefully let her go, throwing her head down. Before she could lift her head up again she felt a powerful impact to the back of her head and a sickening crack before her vision faded to black.


	4. Chapter 4 - Beeps

_Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep…_

The sound echoed through the room, leaving a deafening silence in the long, cavernous gaps between heartbeats. The rhythmic sound drove Angela mad as she set and sort her various tools to prepare for the procedure that was to follow. She was very much aware of what she was about to do, or rather, who she was going to do it to. The person she had resolved to kill only hours earlier.

* * *

 _Angela rushed through the pristine white hallways of the watchpoint's medical wing. She slipped a hand into her coat, withdrawing it when she was satisfied that her pistol was still there. Her anger fuelled her to walk faster. She had to find McCree, who was in charge of hunting the Widowmaker._

" _You're lucky she's even breathing at all!"_

 _Angela froze. That was his voice. She hurried around the corner to find the man she was looking for, arguing with a gorilla who was rushing a stretcher into the medical wing._

 _She was confused. Did someone get hurt? She walked over to the two. She stopped in shock when she realised who was on the stretcher. Her shock turned into that feeling of hatred again as the stretcher rolled closer._

" _Mercy we need your help!"_

* * *

 _Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep…_

She looked behind her. There she lied, eyes closed, held in place by leather straps and various machines and tubes hooked up to her. Her skin a cool shade of blue, caused by her slow heartbeat.

Angela sighed. She looked almost peaceful, sleeping there under the effect of the sedative she had given her. Save for the blue skin, the image reminded her of her dear friend. It almost made her forget what sinister creature lied before her.

* * *

" _She's stable, Winston. But I still don't understand why you would have her brought here."_

" _Angela I-."_

" _You know how much of a danger she is to us!" She sharply interrupted._

" _Angela…"_

" _You know how much damage she's done! How much more she could cause if she wakes up! She coul-."_

" _Angela!"_

 _Angela stopped and scowled at him before looking away._

 _The ape sighed and adjusted his glasses. "I'm aware that you may be upset over… recent events." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "But please. She needs our help."_

 _Angela remained silent. She wouldn't hear any of it._

" _We've lost too many friends. Please try to save the ones we still have a chance of saving."_

" _Winston,_ _ **she**_ _killed our friends. Our 'friend' is gone. All that's left is this creature."_

 _He sighed. "Lena believed tha-."_

" _Don't you_ _ **DARE**_ _drag her into this." Angela snapped. "She's gone. And that monster did it." She growled, her voice breaking as tears started to flow down her cheeks._

" _You believed it too."_

 _She sobbed. "And I was stupid to have believed it." She looked up at him. "Even if I could get the implants out and undo the modifications. IF." She emphasised. "I can't change who she is now, Winston. She's gone. I could take her apart and stitch her back together again but I can't take away what's in her brain."_

" _Just try. For me. For Lena."_

* * *

 _Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep…_

Angela sniffled. She pinched the bridge of her nose before brushing her hand over her cheeks to brush the tears away. She closed her eyes. She did believe. Believe that somehow _maybe_ Amélie could be saved. But the more the woman killed, the more she took away from her, the more Angela despised her. And now she was at a loss. She was completely torn.

* * *

" _You shouldn't have saved me."_

 _Angela turned around in shock at the sudden voice. She found Widowmaker staring back at her, still strapped to the table. She immediately reached for her pistol and aimed it at the assassin._

" _You are afraid of me. You hate me." She added, her voice weak._

 _Angela was trembling with fear. She was in a room, alone, with an assassin. Sure, she was cleared of weapons and was strapped down, but there's no telling what she's capable of._

" _So why? Just put me out of my misery."_

 _Angela's eyes went wide. She reached for a syringe and rushed to the IV, gun still aimed at Widowmaker._

" _Please…" Her voice actually showed a hint of sadness._

 _Angela injected the sedative through the IV._

" _Please…" She begged once more before she relaxed and her eyes closed seconds later._

* * *

 _Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep…_

Angela turned around. She didn't know what to believe anymore. She hated herself for even _wanting_ to kill another human being. Hated herself for going against all she believed in. Hated herself for considering not helping a person in need. But this isn't just a person. This thing had killed so many of her friends, and so many innocent people besides. She's not worth saving.

She sighed. There she goes again. She can't stand this inner conflict anymore. As Mercy, as Dr Ziegler, she wanted to help everyone in need, no matter who it is. But as Angela she wanted to slit that thing's throat for everything she'd taken away from her.

She sobbed. She could barely think anymore. She wrapped her fingers around one of the objects on the table, feeling the cold metal through her surgical gloves. She walked to the operating table, letting her tears flow as she stood over the unconscious body. She lifted her hand. It felt heavy, as if her very own body was resisting what she was about to do. She closed her eyes and steeled herself.

 _I'm so sorry…_

 _Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep…_

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry but I just can't resist putting in this little bit. A bonus ending if you will.**

 _Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep... **Bang**..._

She opened her eyes and stared at the now lifeless body. A static note filled the room, signifying the lack of heartbeat. She sighed and cleared her throat.

"Heroes never die!"

Bright light shone as the assassin, previously lifeless, gasped for air. She looked around in panic before looking at Angela in disbelief, she opened her mouth to speak.

 ** _Bang._**

The same note filled the room. Angela looked at her work. She cleared her throat.


End file.
